


Umbrella

by Mapal



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-01-26
Updated: 2013-01-26
Packaged: 2017-11-27 00:48:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/656158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mapal/pseuds/Mapal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel meets a man at a bus stop in the rain. Romance and drama ensue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Umbrella

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry for the drama but I wanted to write something like this for a long time <3 don't worry, this is Dean and Castiel we're talking about.
> 
> Please don't expect regular updates. They'll be sporadic as OBW is my main fic right now :)
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

   It was thundering. It was actually thundering. Castiel looked up to the sky with a dejected sigh, the rain beating down on his head heavily. Trust him to be the one who left work in the middle of a thunderstorm without a damn umbrella. It had been bright that morning, what idiot would take an umbrella out in wall to wall sunshine? He tugged his long coat tighter around his body and flicked up the collar, trying his best to huddle into the garment as he trudged to the bus stop. It was right about now he wished he had a car. Normal people had cars. Normal people didn’t get soaking wet in a downpour after a perfectly sunny day.

   There was a small queue of people at the stop, all of them with umbrellas. What sort of people really left the house in the sun with an umbrella? Or did they simply buy them while they were out and about? Who could afford to buy an umbrella every time it rained? Castiel huffed, breathe clouding on the cold air, and hunched his shoulders against the onslaught of cold, heavy rain. This was not a good way to end a day of hectic office work, bosses yelling at him, Hugh throwing up on Sandra’s desk because he drank too much at Billy’s bachelor party. It had been horrible all over.

   He heard someone clear their throat and rolled his eyes. “If you want me to move you can take that attitude elsewhere,” Castiel grumbled. He wasn’t in the mood for rudeness that day. The man beside him who had just joined the line only chuckled and nudged him lightly.

   “I thought you might appreciate a bit of shelter,” he said calmly, his voice low and easy. It somehow reminded Castiel of a hot summer afternoon, warming him from his head to his toes immediately. He turned his head and tilted his gaze up through the rain to look at the man.

   He was scruffy looking, wearing a large leather jacket over a shirt, and then another shirt. It all seemed very unnecessary and his jeans were worn and faded. At least he had some decent boots on, Castiel noticed as he bowed his head against the rain for a moment. He dared the stinging of the icy water against his eyes to look up again into the kind, green eyes of the man. He was holding a large umbrella, larger than most, and offering him a warm, friendly smile. “That would be nice, thank you,” Castiel finally said, and the man stepped forward confidently, holding the umbrella between them.

   Castiel was immediately grateful. The rain hurt when it was so heavy, stung at his skin when it was so cold. He would be sure to take his umbrella with him more often. He was almost positive he would have a chill later. “Why does everyone have an umbrella but me?” He sighed angrily, casting an agitated look at the queue of sheltered people ahead of him. The man chuckled and shook his head.

   “Well the forecast did predict rain. I wouldn’t normally have bothered but my brother said it was going to be heavy, and the car’s in the shop,” he said easily. He was smooth with his words, a distinctly more southern twang in his accent.

   “I wondered why you were waiting for the bus in this weather,” Castiel offered quietly. He wished the damn vehicle would turn up so he could just get home and watch reruns of Friends with several mugs of hot chocolate.

   “Yeah, not my chosen mode of transport, gotta be said. At least I’ve got this super huge umbrella, Sammy’s like a moose so we had to get something that’d shelter him and his antlers.” Castiel frowned and looked up at the man.

   “Antlers? Does he have a deformity?” The man laughed, rocking back a little as his face lit up with joy, small creases appearing at the corners of his eyes.

   “No,” he chuckled, adjusting the umbrella to give Castiel a little more shelter. “It’s a nickname he picked up from one of his professors. He’s huge, though.” He smiled at Castiel and he felt his stomach lurch a little. It was probably one of the brightest smiles Castiel had ever seen, and yet he got the feeling that this man was hiding a lot behind that smile.

   It was curious, really. He was just a stranger in the rain, but Castiel could feel the heat of his body, the warmth of his smile, and it made him forget that he was sodden. He smiled back, easy as that, and relaxed a little. “I’m Dean, by the way,” the man said, holding out his free hand to Castiel. He took it, feeling rough skin against his own smooth palm. Dean was a hard worker.

   “Castiel,” he answered, drawing a raised eyebrow from Dean. “It’s from the bible,” he offered, used to the strange looks. His parents had been religious freaks, he preferred not to think about them.

   “I see,” Dean said with a smirk. He glanced up as the bus started approaching, and Castiel was too taken by the bare length of his neck, the profile of his face, that he didn’t realise why Dean suddenly stepped back from the curb.

   Water sprayed up as the bus slid to a halt on the side of the road, the wave arching up and over until it drenched Castiel right through to his skin. “Oh, seriously?” he cried, holding his arms out to either side and looking down at his soaked beige coat and limp blue tie. Dean was laughing somewhere behind him.

   “Oh shit… dude, where do you live?” His voice was light and full of laughter but Castiel couldn’t share his joy. He was cold, wet and miserable.

   “The other side of town. About half an hour away,” he grumbled. Dean was at his side again, offering the useless shelter of the umbrella once more.

   “Hey… might be a bit forward, but my place is only ten minutes away. You’re gonna catch a chill if you stay in those clothes too long,” he said quietly, a look of concern flooding onto his face. It soon cracked into a grin, however. “Plus I don’t think the driver wants you dripping all over everything for too long.” Castiel eyed him dubiously before looking down at his clothes again. The sooner he could get out of them the better. He was taking a chance on a random stranger on the street but it wasn’t like he couldn’t take care of himself. He was probably the most dangerous tax accountant in the city when it came to trained fighting skills.

   “Sure,” he sighed as the queue moved along. “I’ll just drip all over your place instead.” Dean laughed and Castiel had to smile too as they reached the bus and climbed on board.

   Dean’s apartment was small and cramped in the middle of the city, on the top floor of a short block. It was home to both him and his brother but apparently Sam was out until later doing some study group thing. “Going to be a big lawyer,” Dean explained as he took Castiel’s coat and hung it up to dry on the back of the front door. Castiel kicked off his shoes and peeled off his socks, tossing them over his shoes idly. “I’ll find you some clothes, come on,” Dean offered as he led the way through the narrow hallway to a bedroom at the end.

   Castiel followed uneasily, all too aware that he was in the home of a stranger that happened to be on his bus route, dripping all over the carpet and about to wear their clothes. “I guess we’re about the same size,” Dean mused to himself as he pulled out an old t-shirt and pair of jeans. “Hope fashion isn’t an issue.” Castiel smiled and shook his head slowly.

   “I don’t think it’ll be a problem,” he answered. Dean put the clothes on the unmade bed and moved towards the door.

   “Bring your wet stuff through when you’re done, I’ll stick them in the dryer,” he said with a quick smile before disappearing. Castiel gazed after him for a moment before looking to the clean clothes. Well, so far so good. He hadn’t had to disable someone and get the hell out of there yet. Living in the city and being of a more slight build, and also being mugged once, had led to him taking classes in self-defence, and then classes in martial arts. It was a fun way to pass the time, better than sat at home reading the Lord of the Rings for the fifteenth time.

   He peeled of his wet jacket and loosened off his tie before taking off the shirt. He replaced it with the t-shirt Dean had left for him, which was warm and soft and hung a little loose on his shoulders but otherwise fit well. It was a welcome relief from the soggy clothes and only encouraged him to strip off the damp slacks and boxers underneath. It looked like he was going commando. He removed his stuff from his pockets and shoved the wet wallet and house keys into the pair of jeans he’d be wearing before pulling them on.

   He padded out of the bedroom barefoot with a bundle of wet clothes in his arms. Dean was in the lounge tidying up the remains of what looked like last night’s Chinese takeaway. “Hey, lemme take those,” he said quickly, tossing the binbag he had been holding aside and easing the bundle out of Castiel’s grip. “Just uhm… take a seat anywhere, back in a sec.”

   Dean disappeared into the kitchen and Castiel heard moving around as he tossed the clothes into a dryer. At least the dryer wasn’t a communal one. There was a reason Castiel had taken the time to find a rather large house, despite being further away from work, that had all its own appliances. He sat down on the smart grey sofa and looked around. It was a small place, yes, and cramped, but it was homely and modern. The walls were smooth and white, decorated with artwork that Castiel would say was not Dean’s idea, and the furniture was sleek and minimalistic, something he thought maybe was Dean.

   It was amazing how much one could learn just from looking at the place someone lived. It was clear two people lived there, the two different tastes colliding in every corner, and Castiel could take a good stab at who was who. “The artwork is Sam’s, bought it from a friend,” Dean confirmed as he came back in to find Castiel staring at a strange picture of Michael casting down Lucifer in black and white.

   “It’s interesting,” he offered quietly before turning his gaze back to Dean. The other man was stood a little awkwardly at the door to the kitchen. “Is everything okay?” Dean bit his lip and nodded, wringing his hands for a moment before pressing one against the doorframe to keep it occupied.

   “Yeah, yeah… I just… do you fancy some hot cocoa or something?”

   And so Castiel ended up sat with Dean on his comfortable, expensive sofa, cradling a hot mug of cocoa, talking about where his day went so epically wrong and finding out why Dean had been out in the rain at all. It turned out he was a mechanic, but specialised in refurbishing old cars and selling them on for quite handsome prices. His own car, a ’67 Chevy Impala, as he was proudly informed, had developed a fault that morning and Dean had had to catch the bus to and from work. “It’ll be fixed soon, though, I’m not one for public transport,” Dean told him as he picked at the fluffy white throw that was cast over the back of the sofa, another one of his brother’s design choices.

   “I never could drive,” Castiel chuckled. “I’ve been catching the bus for years, the rain always seems to catch me out. Always say I’ll carry an umbrella next time.” Dean laughed and nodded before taking a sip of his cocoa, licking away the hint of cream that caught against his upper lip. He had been doing that repeatedly, making it increasingly difficult for Castiel to concentrate. It didn’t help that they were curled up on the sofa facing each other, feet almost touching in the centre.

   “Maybe you’ll learn,” he grinned, looking at Castiel with those enticing green eyes. He was a stranger, someone he met at a bus stop, and yet it felt like they had been friends for years. Castiel couldn’t place the sense of familiarity, the sense of home and comfort that came with Dean. He felt like he knew Dean, and Dean knew him just as well.

   “Maybe,” Castiel mused softly, wrapping his fingers a little tighter around his mug and looking down into the swirling cream that settled on top of his drink.

   “So what, you live all alone?” Dean asked, his tone conversational and curious. Castiel sighed and closed his eyes for a moment before taking a sip of his drink, not replying immediately. “Cas?” Dean prompted with a nickname that had never been used before, causing him to look up and catch that green gaze again.

   “Yeah,” he breathed, forcing a smile onto his face. All alone was all he had ever known. There was something fulfilling about living out in the middle of nowhere with three cats and a dog, however. “Been alone since I was a child, nothing new there,” he muttered. Dean nodded in understanding, and that really was understanding on his face. It made Castiel frown a little. “And you? Do you only have your brother?” Dean bit his lip and nodded, eyes darting down to where his long fingers wrapped around his own mug.

   “Yeah. We only ever had dad really, and he died a few years go. Down to me now to put Sammy through school, make sure he makes something of himself, you know?” Castiel nodded thoughtfully and watched as Dean took another sip of his drink.

   This time it was just too much when Dean came away with that fine line of cream along his lip, lingering in places even after he licked at it. Castiel carefully rocked forwards, balancing his mug easily as he reached across and brushed a finger over Dean’s top lip. His eyes widened and he froze as Castiel pulled away and easily sucked the cream off his finger before taking another sip from his own mug, blue eyes keeping a close watch on the other man.

   Dean seemed at a loss for a moment, but Castiel’s suspicions of his sexuality were soon confirmed as a smooth, easy grin spread onto his face and he reached out with one socked foot to gently nudge at Castiel’s bare one. “You know, that’s a trick reserved for clubs and coffee shops,” he said quietly, rocking his head to rest it against the back of the sofa. Castiel laughed and nodded, slowly placing his mug down on a coaster on the coffee table before wrapping his arms around his knees.

   “Yeah, well I don’t go to those places, I wouldn’t know,” he muttered, leaning forwards to rest his chin on his knees and watch as Dean idly played with the mug in his hands.

   “What, you don’t go to coffee shops?” Dean asked, that same abundant curiosity evident in his voice. Castiel smiled softly and shook his head.

   “I don’t really go out much. Just work, eat and sleep I guess.” Truth was he was a bit of a recluse. It wasn’t a phobia, or a problem, he just didn’t have the friends or the will to go out and have a good time. Not that it mattered, he perfectly enjoyed staying in and curling up with his dog on the sofa.

   Dean was regarding him with an unreadable expression. “So how do you ever pick people up?” Castiel smirked and raised his eyebrows a little.

   “Bus stops seem to work well.” Dean kicked him lightly.

   “And who’s to say you’ve picked me up?” he teased, eyes dancing with mirth. Castiel’s smirk only broadened.

   “Well someone’s done the picking up because I’m wearing your clothes in your apartment.” Dean nodded approvingly and placed his mug down beside Castiel’s before leaning forward so they were only a few inches apart, a look of mischief creeping onto his face.

   “I like you, straight to the point,” he muttered, and his breath was hot and smelled of sweet cocoa. Castiel breathed it in and lowered his knees a little so there was less of a barrier between them, surreptitiously sliding his leg between Dean’s.

   “You’re pretty straight to the point, yourself,” Castiel murmured. He felt a soft hand trail along the arm that wasn’t pressed against the sofa, creeping up towards his shoulder and over the exposed part of his collarbone that the t-shirt hung loosely over. He sucked in a breath and held Dean’s gaze, the world seeming to fall silent in that moment.

   Dean closed the distance between them in one, swift movement, rocking forwards so their lips met, hot and damp and tasting of chocolate and cream. Castiel brought his hand up to tangle in the still-damp, short hairs at the back of Dean’s head, the other venturing down the toned torso that was trying to press against him. He felt warm hands run through his own hair, before Dean’s lips left his mouth to lap up the rain water that had dripped into the hollow of his throat, tongue trailing hot and tantalising over Castiel’s skin.

   Their legs were tangled together as Dean laid him out on the narrow sofa, thigh pushing up between his legs gently. Castiel let out a soft moan as the other man’s venturing hand found the hem of his shirt and slid up underneath the fabric. Dean supported himself with one hand by Castiel’s head as the other traced the line of his hip and slowly made its way up over his ribs. Castiel was doing some exploring of his own, running his hands over the thin fabric of Dean’s shirt and following the smooth line of his spine all the way down.

  Dean’s lips were on his again, his tongue teasing at Castiel’s bottom lip until he opened his mouth and pushed their tongues together. He heard Dean’s approving groan and pushed his leg up against Dean’s crotch. Like a teenager in heat, he shamelessly rubbed down against Castiel’s leg, rolling his hips smoothly and pressing the beginnings of an erection against him. Castiel tired of feeling muscles just through fabric, and finally reached around to strip Dean of his t-shirt. He had shed the rest of his layers when he had got in, something Castiel was thankful for as he got fast access to a toned, firm chest and a stomach that was maybe not so well toned but he could not help but run his hands over it.

   The favour was soon returned, Dean tugging Castiel’s shirt off quickly before latching onto his throat and nipping lightly with his teeth before trailing kisses down towards his chest. Castiel rolled his head back and closed his eyes, tangling one hand in Dean’s hair as the other smoothed over his broad shoulders. Dean slipped lower and lower, his hand trailing down the side of Castiel’s torso as he placed kisses down the middle of his chest. Castiel sucked in a breath as Dean neared his stomach. He had forgotten about the scar in the heat of the moment, for the first time in years he had willingly been shirtless in someone’s presence, and had totally forgotten about the reason he did not like it in the first place.

   He was too late to stop Dean. The other man halted as he reached the spot on his stomach just above his left him. Castiel let out a shuddering breath as warm fingers ran over the long, pale line of the scar. It had never really healed. When he had been mugged eight years ago, when he was just eighteen, he had also been stabbed. It had been life-threatening. He had been left to die. Castiel had never been sure what had happened that night, but he knew someone came to him and got him to safety before disappearing.

   It was a story he was not willing to share, and so he pulled forcefully at Dean’s shoulders. “ _Dean,_ ” he hissed shakily. The other man placed his palm over the scar and slowly rose up to meet Castiel’s lips gently. It was a kiss that was in a whole new world compared to the deep, sloppy kisses they had previously shared. It was soft and chaste, the simple press of lips as Dean’s hand slowly moved away. Castiel felt the press of Dean’s erection, now fully hard, against his leg and pushed the scar to the back of his mind.

   He deserved this. Even if this was just a one-time thing, he deserved it. He hadn’t had a relationship in over five years, and hadn’t really cared. He was fine living alone, fine without any emotional attachment to anyone. He had worked hard, overcome his fears, and now he certainly deserved his. He deepened the kiss again and slid his hands down over Dean’s stomach towards his belt. He felt the Dean’s muscles twitch in anticipation, his hips rolling against Castiel’s again eagerly. Dean wasn’t one for waiting.

   Castiel unfastened Dean’s belt quickly and easily before popping the button and unzipping the fly. He pushed his hand against the fabric of the boxers underneath, palming Dean’s erection firmly and drawing out a long, low moan from the other man. Castiel was suddenly very aware that he wasn’t wearing any underpants as his erection pushed painfully against the constraints of the denim. He groaned heavily and shifted his hips, but Dean’s hand was suddenly pushing them down against the sofa as his fingers battled with the button and zipper.

   He ached for a touch, just any touch, in a place where he hadn’t been touched in years. Quick sessions in the shower to relieve the pressure did nothing to relieve the want. He felt himself throb and twitch as Dean slid the zipper down slowly and parted the denim. He felt the cool air against his sensitive skin and drew in a breath as Dean placed soft, open mouthed kisses against his lips and ran his fingers slowly down.

   Dean pulled Castiel’s erection free from the denim, his grip warm and soft. Castiel shuddered and arched his back up towards the other man, wrapping the fingers of one hand around the back of Dean’s neck as the other hand slipped under the fabric of Dean’s boxers and finally made contact with his arousal. He was large and weighty in Castiel’s hand as he pushed the boxers down and trailed his hand up the whole length. He was not overly long, but he was thick and Castiel felt the want pool hot and low in his abdomen.

   Dean was moving his hand in slow, firm movements up and down Castiel’s length, running his thumb along the underside. Castiel pushed Dean’s boxers and jeans further out of the way and drew his fingers up his full length as he pushed his tongue up against the roof of Dean’s mouth and drew a long, throaty moan from him. Dean pushed their hips together so their erections rubbed alongside each other, and then he took them both into his strong hand and started to stroke them quickly.

   Castiel gasped in a breath and rolled his head back, giving Dean access to his throat again. He felt the other man sucking and kissing his skin but it was nothing compared to the white-out of pleasure he was feeling as he was pressed up against Dean in the most intimate way, Dean’s hand squeezing him just tight enough to milk a pulse of pleasure with each powerful pull with his wrist. He buried the fingers of one hand in Dean’s hair and dragged his fingers along his scalp as his other hand dug into Dean’s shoulder.

   Copious amounts of alone time in the shower would never really prepare him for the swift, strong movements of someone else’s hand. Dean was skilled and knew just what to do, just how to twist, just how to squeeze, to get Castiel writhing beneath him. It wasn’t long at all before he felt himself tightening up, muscles coiling like springs. “Shit,” he heard Dean mumble, but didn’t have the mindset to wonder what on Earth he was cursing about. He had his head thrown back and his mouth agape, gulping down air as he felt the pulses of pleasure coursing through his veins.

   He knew vaguely that Dean’s mouth wasn’t on him anymore, but he could feel that he was being watched. Somehow Dean had ended up straddling his hips easily, their erections still pushed together as he pumped his fist furiously. Castiel felt a hand trail down his chest, blunt nails digging into his skin, before he heard a low, guttural moan and felt Dean’s lips on his collarbone, Dean’s teeth biting down lightly to try to stop the moans that were coming more frequently.

   He had no idea what noises he was making himself. His mind was beyond help, a wall of white noise. He felt the pressure sink lower, felt the tension build to bursting point just for a few seconds before it released. He heard Dean’s shuddering sigh, could guess that the other man was watching by the way his lips had disappeared from Castiel’s skin again. Castiel trembled and arched up, hand flying out to clutch at the back of the sofa, knuckles going white, as white liquid spilled onto his stomach. “Jesus,” Dean breathed, smoothing a hand down Castiel’s side. Castiel registered at the back of his mind that Dean was cursing and blaspheming about him, but the blanket of warm fuzziness that was settling over him didn’t allow him to care.

   He managed to get his brain into gear enough to realise that Dean still wasn’t finished. Clearly he wasn’t as quick as Castiel was. He reached down and batted Dean’s hand away, wrapping his fingers back around that thick length and pulling Dean down into a kiss with his free hand. Dean ran his tongue alongside Castiel’s and Castiel swallowed up his moans as his hand moved fast and loose over the man’s throbbing arousal. At the new pace, he soon felt Dean start to tense up, his muscles twitching and his body pressing lower against Castiel’s.

   Dean’s hand was tangled in his hair, fingers carding gently through the dark strands. His other hand had found its way to the small of Castiel’s back, almost cradling him as Castiel brought him closer and closer to the edge. He felt Dean’s grip tighten, felt himself being pulled closer, as Dean groaned lowly against Castiel’s mouth. The erection in Castiel’s hand pulsed gently and Castiel stroked him through his climax, feeling the warm liquid spill out onto his stomach and mix with his own. He realised somewhere in his mind that he would need a shower, but Dean was apparently far from done.

   Firm hands were pulling the loose jeans down from his hips. Castiel pushed his body up from the sofa to allow it, indulging himself in one of Dean’s soft, open-mouthed kisses. “Are you like a machine or something?” he mumbled against Dean’s mouth. The other man laughed softly and kissed along Castiel’s jaw.

   “Just well-trained,” he replied gently, dipping down to pull the jeans away from Castiel. It was highly unfair that he was the only naked one, and so he started making short work of Dean’s jeans and boxers. Dean awkwardly climbed out of them and then settled back down on top of Castiel’s hips. He leaned down and pressed feather light kisses to Castiel’s lips, and Castiel couldn’t help but think this was one of the most romantic situations he had been in, and it was with a complete stranger.

   “We’re gonna need to move to the bedroom,” Dean murmured, hands smoothing down both of Castiel’s sides and following the sharp lines of his hips. Castiel chuckled and rolled his hips gently up against Dean’s.

   “You could have said that before you got me naked.” Dean smirked down at him, an easy, slightly lop-sided expression that might have been irritating on anyone else but only served to make Castiel’s limp penis try its best to come back to life.

   “I didn’t think,” Dean said, smirk widening into a grin. Castiel slowly pushed himself up so he was sitting, Dean still straddling his lap. He ran his hands down Dean’s spine and then cupped his rear, tugging him closer with ease.

   “And what do you have planned in the bedroom?”

   “That would ruin the surprise,” Dean muttered before placing a gentle kiss to his lips and then clambering up from the sofa. He offered his hand to Castiel, who took it, and then led him from the living room and down the small hallway. There were three more doors down there, two on the right to what Castiel presumed were bedrooms and one that at the end that was ajar to reveal a bathroom. Dean led him to the room nearest the bathroom and closed the door behind them.

   It was the room Castiel had gotten changed in earlier, a little untidy but certainly well lived in. He didn’t have the time to take it in yet again, because Dean was soon upon him, hands on his waist to pull him closer as their lips met again. They kissed for what seemed like an age, Castiel aware that he was being backed up slowly towards the bed. His legs never made contact with the item of furniture as Dean span him around just in time.

   The other man pressed up against his back and ran his hands down Castiel’s torso from behind. “You okay with this?” He asked quietly as he peppered kisses across Castiel’s shoulders. He could feel Dean half-hard pressing against his thigh, and just the sensation of that was enough to make him twitch in interest again. He nodded reaching back to tug Dean’s hips closer.

   “Of course,” he said hoarsely, surprised by how wrecked and deep his own voice was.

   Dean put a hand to his shoulder and gently pushed him forwards until he was bent over the bed, hands pushing down into the mattress for support. Warm hands trailed down either side of his spine before gently parting the cheeks of his ass. He bowed his head and moaned as Dean’s thumbs swept gently over his entrance, teasing. “I’m okay with it if you aren’t a tease,” he growled under his breath. He heard Dean’s chuckle and then one hand disappeared from him.

   He peered under his own body to see Dean leaning over to the bedside table and rummaging around in a drawer. He soon produced a small, clear bottle and a foil packet. Castiel almost sighed in relief. He had hardly been prepared for an impromptu session with a man. Dean tossed the packet on the bed for now and massaged Castiel’s hip lightly for a second before removing his hand completely.

   Castiel closed his eyes and heard the pop of the cap and a few seconds of silence before the hand was back on his hip. He felt fingers part him and spread him to reveal his entrance, and then there were slick, cool fingers pressing against him. It was just one at first, but that was enough to make Castiel gasp out and rock forwards. It had been a long time, and his body seemed to know that.

   He knew he was tight, knew he was going to hurt in the morning, but the want pooling in his gut again was enough to make him push his hips back again and take the whole of Dean’s finger. The grip on his hip tightened and Dean let out a noise at the back of his throat that Castiel would never really be able to describe. That single finger curled up inside him, twisting around and probing gently until it found the spot that made him cry out into the silent bedroom and jolt forward so his knees hit the wooden frame of the bed.

   Dean let out a low hiss behind him and then he was adding the second finger, sliding it in slowly. Castiel felt his body protest, but the slight burn of pain was soon overwritten by the burst of pleasure as Dean expertly pushed up against his prostate again. Castiel shifted forward until he could rest on his knees on the very edge of the bed, his legs already protesting to holding him up while he was receiving so much pleasure.

   The fingers inside him scissored and stretched him before the third was added. Castiel buried his face in the comforter and muffled his low, heavy groan. He had almost forgotten just how good it was for someone to do that. Dean twisted his wrist and fingers, stretching and relaxing the muscles with ease. He was experienced, that was for sure. Castiel knew it was still going to stretch further, and was glad when Dean pushed his fingers out just to give it that little more. The age old question of ‘will it fit?’ was starting to be answered with ‘yes, most definitely’.

   Dean was leaning forward and scooping up the packet from the bed. His fingers slid out and Castiel felt bare and wanting as the foil was ripped open. His penis was making a valiant effort to become erect again, and he was guessing Dean was already there as he heard the slip-slide of the condom being rolled on. He was aware of Dean shifting around, heard the cap of the lube bottle again, and then felt the hand back on his hips. “Still sure?” Dean’s voice was low and husky, sending a shiver down Castiel’s spine at just how close it was. Dean was leaning over him, mouth next to his ear.

   Castiel nodded down into the bed and closed his eyes. He was more than ready. He had never expected something like this, never thought that some stranger on the street would be leaning over him, naked, ready to screw him into the bed. Somehow, he was totally fine with this turn of events. Dean was pushing up behind him, the blunt tip of his erection teasing at the hole. Castiel quivered and pushed back, all his muscles tensing up in anticipation. Dean seemed to sense it, smoothing his hand up and down Castiel’s spine a few times until he relaxed again.

   He gasped and bit down onto the comforter as Dean finally slid inside, stretching him wide. He had never anticipated just how good that girth would feel inside him. His fingers clutched at the blankets and he slowly rocked back as Dean slowly slid forwards until their hips made contact. They stilled for a moment, Dean leaning down and forward over Castiel’s back, his breath coming out in hot puffs against his skin. The other man was trembling, his muscles taught with want.

   Castiel was the first to move, rolling his hips forward and then back, enjoying the slick sensation of the movement. Dean finally started to move, sliding almost all the way out before pushing forwards slowly until he was completely inside again. Castiel moaned, muffled by the blankets, and spread his legs just that bit wider to get some more stability. He heard the responding groan of approval and felt Dean tip forward until one of his hands was pressing down into the bed. “Just… fuck me,” Castiel hissed lowly, driven mad by the quivering anticipation that was making his whole body tremble.

   Dean was almost too happy to oblige. His hips started to snap back and forth in precise, pounding motions. With each thrust forward, their skin made contact. The room was filled with their heavy panting and throaty moans, the glorious slap of skin on skin. Castiel angled himself so Dean was driving a little more down into him, and that was just perfect. He cried out against the comforter and arched his back involuntarily as Dean’s hips snapped forwards and drove his erection straight home against Castiel’s prostate.

   Castiel suddenly understood exactly why they had taken part in foreplay. He would have probably been far too quick to release if he had endured Dean’s merciless rhythm without doing something else first. Dean managed quite a few powerful thrusts against that infuriatingly good spot until he had to adjust. He pushed Castiel up further onto the bed and followed him up, slipping out quickly to sort himself out. He knelt behind Castiel but brought one leg up to plant his foot on the bed. He pushed Castiel’s head back down to the mattress and then he was sliding in again.

   The new position only allowed him to go harder and faster, and Castiel would have been ashamed of the noises he was making if he had actually had control of his own mind. It was blank with pleasure again, his penis now erect between his legs. He reached back and started to stroke over himself in time with Dean, flinching at the touch on sensitive skin at first before spreading his legs wider and getting to work. The lower he got, the more it allowed Dean to drive down into him. The lower he got, the better it felt.

   He was soon crying out into the mattress, hand moving furiously over his own erection as Dean leaned over his back and kept up his crippling pace. He felt fingers in his hair, carding through it roughly before gripping and holding his head in place. The excitement and pleasure shot down his spine and caused every muscle in his abdomen to tense up, leaving him with the fear that he’d spill right there and then.

   “Holy fuck,” Dean grumbled before pushing Castiel almost fully down onto the bed, leaving just enough room for him to pleasure himself but giving Dean the advantage of being able to drive straight down into him, straddling Castiel’s hips. Castiel gasped loudly and squeezed his eyes shut, feeling the bursts of pleasure that were bound to finish him off soon.

   Dean managed to get in possibly six solid thrusts to his prostate before Castiel was climaxing once again, stroking himself quickly through it as he spilled out onto the comforter beneath him. He barely spared a thought for Dean’s laundry as the man was still snapping his hips back and forth quickly. His thrusts started to become more and more erratic, his breathing ragged and his moans broken and hoarse.

   Castiel clung to the comforter and groaned shamelessly, his body loose and welcoming as Dean slammed home again and again. He pushed the thought that he’d never be able to walk the following morning to the back of mind as Dean let out a loud cry and rammed his hips forward once more, stilling there as his body shuddered and trembled. Castiel collapsed fully onto the bed, breathing heavy and almost painful in his chest. Dean slipped out and fell to one side, and Castiel turned his head to see the man’s chest rising and falling heavily.

   They lay in silence for a long time until Dean finally lifted an arm that was clearly heavier than it should have been and peeled the condom off. He tossed it in the vague direction of the bin and then let his arm flop down to the bed again. “This had better not be a one night stand,” he said hoarsely. Castiel laughed and buried his face in the comforter. It smelled like sex.

   “Why?” he said, muffled by the fabric. He felt the bed shift as Dean moved closer, and then the soft press of lips against his shoulder and a hand trailing gently down his spine.

   “Because that was the best sex I’ve ever had, and I’m… I guess I’m an expert,” Dean said quietly, almost shamefully. Castiel turned his head again to look at Dean, meeting those bright green eyes. The other man was laid on his side, propped up on one elbow.

   Castiel smiled and reached out with one hand to trail his fingers down that firm torso. He thought he could definitely make that more a more permanent feature in his life. He sighed gently and closed his eyes. “You did all the work,” he said with a small smile, enjoying the soft huff of laughter beside him. “But yes… I think I’d like it to happen again.” He stilled his hand on Dean’s side and was pleased when the man moved a little closer. “But I do have to get home to my dog tonight.”

   Dean sighed, disappointed, but nodded nonetheless. “Sure, of course,” he said softly, leaning over to place more kisses to Castiel’s shoulder. Castiel could hardly believe that Dean was a random stranger off the street, but it could have been worse. He could have picked him up at a club and never remembered it, or had a one-off in the bathroom at some coffee shop, if people really did that sort of thing. “I’ll give you my number,” Dean whispered, drawing a sleepy smile from Castiel. He really had no wish to move from that spot on the bed, but Logan was waiting to be let out and have some food.

   “I can stay a little longer,” he decided. Logan would probably be asleep anyway, as Great Danes were inclined to be. He had been home later from work before and he had been fine. Another hour or so wouldn’t hurt.

   Castiel rolled slowly until he was facing Dean, all too aware of the sticky mess on the bed. “Sorry,” he mumbled, inspecting the damp patch. Dean laughed and waved a hand.

   “It’s okay, I’m a dude, happens plenty,” he muttered. He reached out to run a hand down Castiel’s side, eventually coming to stop at his left hip, fingers following the line of the scar. “What happened?” he asked quietly. Castiel’s mind screeched to a halt and he stared blankly at Dean. The man had the power to make him forget about it, but the scar was always there. “Sorry, I mean, if you don’t wanna talk about it, you don’t have to, I just… I’m curious, is all,” he said quickly. Castiel shook his head and placed his hand over Dean’s, drawing in a long breath.

   “I was walking home from school once down the boulevard and… I got jumped and dragged into an alley. He didn’t give me time to even give me my wallet, he just… stabbed me, took it and… left…” he trailed off and took in Dean’s face. The man had gone pale, his green eyes fixed on Castiel’s.

   “When... when did this happen?” his voice was quiet, barely above a whisper. Castiel frowned.

   “I was eighteen… eight years ago,” he answered. Dean’s hand snapped away sharply, like Castiel’s skin was electric. “Dean?” Dean’s mouth opened and closed as if he wanted to say something, but no words came out. He was as white as a sheet, looking like he could empty his stomach any second.

   “I… that… when I was… sixteen, I got uhm… wrapped up in some gang stuff… they told me to… kill or be killed… there was this kid on the boulevard, they pointed him out to me…” his voice cracked and he stared down at the thin white scar on Castiel’s side.

   The reason for the familiarity in Dean’s voice hit Castiel like a sledgehammer to the gut. He sucked in a breath and covered the scar with his palm, eyes going wide. “I didn’t want to do it but they threatened Sammy and I… I had to… but…”

   “You came back,” Castiel croaked, his own voice betraying him. He cleared his throat and swallowed down the bile that was threatening to rise up. “You came back, I remember your voice,” he managed to say. Dean met his gaze again, his own eyes wide and pained. Castiel felt sick. Out of all the cruel, twisted turns of fate, this was the last thing he had expected. “I was in hospital for weeks, they… didn’t think I’d make it… I had to have a kidney transplant… I… I couldn’t leave the house for years.” He quickly sat up and panicked when he realised all his clothes were in the other room.

   He bolted from the bedroom, Dean suddenly on his tail. The cold chill that ran down his spine made him almost divert to the bathroom but he kept going. “Cas, I’m sorry! If I’d have know… I… I’d have never-”

   “Never what?” Castiel spun around to face Dean, body shaking violently. All those years they had never found his attacker, and then Castiel happened to fall into bed with him. “Never picked me up at the bus stop like a pervert? Never lured me into your home? Never fucked me into the mattress?” He ignored the wounded look on Dean’s face and turned again, storming into the living room.

   He grabbed the first clothes he could find, the t-shirt and jeans from earlier, and threw them on. Dean pulled on his own pair of jeans and followed Castiel to the front door. Castiel started to pull on his still wet shoes and socks. “Cas, please,” Dean choked.

   “Don’t call me Cas,” he bit back, slipping his feet into his shoes before reaching up for his sodden coat. “And don’t bother following me.” He turned one last time for Dean. “You should be in jail,” he snarled before he wrenched the door open, not daring to let himself take in the pathetic look on Dean’s face before he slammed it shut again and headed out into the rain. He would throw up when he got home, for now he had to get as far away from there as possible.


End file.
